Amongst the falling flakes of snow, there was not one that looked like the other. Streams of sun’s golden light impishly played between the crystal surfaces, bouncing to and fro like a child, excited. It was the beginning of the new day. Soundlessly, the great light of the sky climbed up, becoming the only difference between the whiteness of the land and the air. In these early hours of the day, the sky tended to be as pale as a lady’s face.
Verg Avesta Presents:
Everwinter~Pale blossom on the white skies~
------------------------------
Fear me, for my greed moves the mountains.
I am that which lives in your nightmares.
Darkest night, longest night, when the sun refuses to rise.
In the cold glimmer of the pure, white world, I alone hunt for the fools.
—Because monsters of this land, ne’er shall they fall before heroes.
Chapter 1
Dawn of a new day
But as beautiful as the scenery outside was, she ignored it completely. With half-open eyes, she stared at the old ceiling, lying in the luxurious bed. Wrapped up in blankets, she cursed under her breath. Had she known it was below twenty degrees outside, she would not have found it strange that she was freezing. After all, her bed was next to the window.
Wearily, she reached for the alarm clock on the nightstand next to the bed, and shut it with a sluggish move. The ringing had long since ended, but it still continued to resonate in her ears. She had never been the morning person, and never would be. It was enough that the old room had the fragrance of dusty earth and old books. That alone would have gotten anyone drowsy. But for her, who stayed up till past the midnight, waking up this early was a miracle.
The only small resignation she made to the land of waking was a quick jump to her feet, before opening the blackened metal hatches of the large fireplace at the very corner of the room. The white-painted tiles were hot to touch, enough to warm the whole room. With dry eyes, she swiftly snatched a few logs from the basket nearby, and stuffed them in the fireplace. Back when the maids had still lived in the mansion, it had been their job to keep the place heated. But now, with the three of them left, it was up to the tenants of the mansion to make it livable.
The logs cracked and popped happily, as the bright flames licked their coarse surface. She murmured contently, feeling how the heat started spreading more fiercely than before. The fireplaces of the house were all connected, but it already took the contraption they had built to keep the lobby and the sitting room warm. It would have been a waste to ask any more, so they resigned to heating the smaller rooms separately. And now that hers had been promised the fire of few more hours, she nodded to herself and closed the hatches, before quickly jumping back to her bed. It was more of her domain right now, far from the previous seconds of squatting before the fireplace in her undergarments.
Thus, right now, she was undergoing a great mental battle between going back to sleep and getting up.
Normally, she would have been dragged up at this point by her friend. Well, friend was a wrong word, but it was the only word she had. Glancing at the chilling air outside, she could already see her friend’s frowning face. If there was someone who had been born into the right climate, it was the person living on the opposing wing of the house.
However, it was Saturday. And by the degree of the government, Saturdays were considered free for everyone attending school. Thus, she could simply offer a smug smile and snuggle deeper into her bed, without any worry about lessons, teachers or anything. Sleeping in was a very viable option, therefore, and she admitted to herself that by every passing minute, the idea was sounding more and more tempting.
To turn your back to “Good Morning!” and to welcome “Good Day!”… She knew that she would have gotten scolded for it, had there been anyone to scold her. But since her project had kept her up till the first signs of darkness fading away in the sky, she deemed that she deserved it.
Common rules of society could go rot for all she cared.
Whatever the case, she had no responsibilities to take care of, and nobody was stupid enough to bother her on the mornings after the experiments. Well, those that knew of those experiments. And it was not like somebody would just climb over the wall and trick Lemminkäinen, merely for the sake of waking her up. If for no other reason, simply because it was getting colder and colder outside. By the time of the evening, it could be below thirty degrees.
Sighing, she flicked the alarm clock to the floor and resigned herself for some more sleep. The blanket whispered sweet promises of slumber, and she was an eager listener. When she got the chance, it would not take even two minutes for her to fall straight to sleep.
—If only during those two minutes somebody had not rang the doorbell.
The far-away sound drew her attention, causing her to curse for the second time. The Gods of Irony that her friend refused to believe in had once again reared their ugly heads, and arranged this most unlikely scenario to happen the moment she found some time to sleep.
Once more, it rang. Out of the room, down the stairs, through the corridor, into the lobby, once more down the stairs, and there would the perpetrator be. Even thinking of the journey she’d had to go through in order to open the door made the girl groan in anger.
By the time of the fifth ring, the girl’s mindset switched from playing dead to wanting revenge. Her nails dug into the sheets, and her white teeth grinded against each other. Whoever it was behind the door, the sheer persistence was unworldly.
“… This is bad.”
Her words finally broke the silence of her room. She had come to a realization. If Vasilisa had been in the house, she would have already opened the door and shooed away whatever guest there was. That girl was either underground, or out in the city. The latter option would have been very unlike her, and the mere thought of the blonde introvert in the mall caused the girl to chuckle. And what came to the freeloader in their house, that was a foolish dream. That person was tucked away in her box, most likely with a cup of hot chocolate and a steamy romance novel. There was no way that freeloader would have taken any responsibilities when it came to guests.
The pace of the ringing was beginning to slow, but that did not mean it was stopping. Far from it. It looked like the assailant was reserving his stamina in order to last longer.
“Okay, that’s it. You deserve to be punched. A slug straight to the face,” she announced, and with angry resignation, jumped up from her bed. Cold air assaulted her, but she threw her leather jacket on and hurried out of the room.
White corridors outside of her cozy room seemed to reflect the outside perfectly. Both the piling snow and the pale paint were in perfect harmony, and judging from the lack of heating in the corridor, she suspected that there was some sort of synchronization going on between the two. Winter, as big part of the country as it was as a season, had always been her greatest enemy. Pulling her jacket closer, she hurried forward on her bare feet.
Although not that far away from the city, the mansion, like all of those in Finland, was hidden by a formidable wall of forest. White topped spruce and fir, as far as the eye could see. Nestled deep in the valley, far away from the agricultural fields, it was the perfect hideaway for people like her.
And now someone had broken into that hideaway. With the persistent ringing of the doorbell as his weapon, this intruder was about to be repelled by the mistress of the house. She had momentarily wondered if she should wrap the corpse into the long carpet that protected her naked feet from the coldness of the corridor’s floor, but decided against it. Even if she was one to act first, think later, she realized that her sleepy mind was still somewhat unnecessarily violent.
However, she had no idea why anyone would be that persistent. Even with a bus, you would have to walk on the forest road for good fifteen minutes before getting to the outer wall. It was designed to keep away those who would approach the place out of sheer curiosity. But perhaps that was the weakness of it, too. Anyone who made it this far would not go away until they got what they wanted.
Therefore, she hurried down the stairs, across the lobby, and headed straight for the door and the shadow behind the twisted glass surface. Wanting nothing but to place a fist straight into the face of the one who disturbed her sleep, she swept away her hair from her face and put her hand on the handle, opening the door the chill of January.
Clicking her tongue, Sallalea Edelfelt stared up at the person standing there, her eyebrows cocked. She had no idea who the young man was, and as far as she was concerned, she did not care. He had woken her up after all.
”...Just who the hell are you supposed to be?”
The young man was as tall as Sallalea herself was short. His large coat with a fur-rug and messy long hair created an image of a refined hobo, someone who even poverty could not make look bad. Golden hair, golden eyes and unshaved beard belonged to someone who clearly came from different origins than from the street. However, the combat boots, the pants with camouflage pattern and the torn hoodie under the coat had both the look and the stench of streets on them.
In short, he was a polar opposite of how Sallalea was dressed. Even though she had just climbed out of bed she looked like an aristocratic lady. Her blue silk pajamas with pictures of snowflakes, covered mostly by her well-kept leather jacket, exhibited the aura of money and fame, something very fitting for the mansion built many centuries ago. Her hair, resembling the sky in its color, was nearly the length of the girl herself. Two orange eyes stared at the boy with doubt and annoyance seething from them.
“So? Who are you? What are you doing here?” Sallalea demanded to know again, frowning at the young man. “If you’re here for handouts, tough luck. The church is on the other side of the city. We don’t have anything for hobos here.”
There was a few seconds of silence, as the blonde man stared at Sallalea, seemingly confused by her attitude.
“No…” the young man finally answered, and put his hand into his pocket. “I came because of this. You know, the ad.”
Having said that, the young man produced a piece of paper from his pocket. It seemed to have been cut from a newspaper, one that had been lying in some trash for a long time, judging by the smell. As Sallalea made no move to take it, mostly because of the smell, the young man presented it to her so she could read it. Still looking rather doubtful, Sallalea eyed at the contents of the paper.
“’A room for rent: Looking for a place to stay? Come to the Lintukoto Mansion. We have multiple rooms available for you, with a measly rent of 2300 markkaa per month, water and electricity included. No questions ask, full guarantee of privacy. The house includes a common room, a kitchen and a sauna. Foodstuff not provided by the house. First month’s pay up-front. Address is…’”
As she read on, Sallalea’s eyes started to widen in disbelief. It was as if someone had presented her the American Declaration of Independence. Shaking like a leaf, her eyes darted between the piece of paper and the young man, until an expression of anger and rejection rose to her face.
“W-what sort of prank is this!?” Sallalea yelled out, turning around on her heels. “There’s no way something like this can be on the papers!”
Like a gale, Sallalea ran to the nearby newspaper rack in the lobby, where all the old newspapers of the week were stored. She stuck her hand in and drew forth the yesterday’s newspaper, showing a rather disturbing sense of flair when it came to dramatic movement. With a flurry of paper, she turned on the page showing the ads. And there, at the very bottom of the page where she usually didn’t even bother looking, shining like a blaming finger straight at her face…
“What!? The same ad is here!?” Sallalea’s “How could it… who could have… I mean, there’s no way something like this was written. Unless… unless…”
Sallalea’s eyes snapped to the door in the lobby, the one with a spiraling staircase that led to the underground basement behind it. The only possible culprit for such an add had to be behind it, and currently, Sallalea wanted to do nothing more but to kick down the said door and re-enact the charge of the Golden Horde down the staircase.
Unfortunately, there was one problem. Namely, the young man with a tepid expression that stood behind her.
“Sorry, but I’ll have to inform you this now. We aren’t currently accepting any tenants,” Sallalea informed, adopting an expression of deep frown once again. “So, just… crawl back to whatever cardboard box you crawled out of. That’ll be better for all of us.”
If Sallalea was expecting the young man to simply retreat at this point, she was sorely mistaken. What she got was instead a face that seemed almost like a reflection of her own, and pose that emphasized the fact that the young was over half a meter taller than Sallalea.
“Oi. Brat. All I hear is ‘hobo, hobo’ from you. Just what do you think a paying customer is?” The boy growled at her. “I may look like this, I may not have a house or a job, but that does not mean I’m a hobo.”
“Isn’t that the exact definition of a hobo?” Sallalea asked with a deadpan expression, causing the boy to flinch like he had been sucker-punched.
“So it’s true. Hermits who confine themselves in a rich life at mansions really look down on the little people,” the boy commented, now glaring at Sallalea defiantly. “How scary world we live in.”
“Hey don’t go getting your sweat of poverty all over me. Even if that hoodie of yours is ventilated in the most uncouth manner, you’re still like a bear in a sauna.”
The air nearly crackled under the tension of the two figures, one small and one tall, confronting each other in the lobby of the mansion. A combo of rich thickhead and poor blockhead was so clashing that it was a small miracle that the expensive wooden floor under them didn’t start burning from the friction the collision of these two caused. With forced smiles, more akin to toothy grins, on their faces, the young man and a woman displayed their full enmity, something only strangers with too similar personalities can achieve.
“I’ll have you know, my hoodie wasn’t like this from the beginning. It’s because of that mad army of magpies on your yard that I look like I crawled out from the other side of the Iron Curtain,” the young man retorted. Sallalea snorted and gave a mocking shrug.
“It seems that even the animals living here see that you have no business on being in a setting like this. Now, go on, get lost. The visiting hours are, and have always been, closed.”
What Sallalea did not deem to tell the boy was that the “mad army of magpies” outside was actually part of the Bounded Field that surrounded the mansion and the woods around it. Through the magecraft of her friend, they had created a flock of sentries that would assault any unwanted visitor. The only problem with it was that the said sentries also kept snatching anything shiny that was left outside. Sallalea still hadn’t found her other earring. Not only that, but thanks to a certain accident that had happened during their creation, the magpies were currently extremely vicious, and anyone who had met them agreed that rather than crows, these magpies should have been called a “murder” instead of a “flock”.
“Then why do you have such an ad in the paper? Are you tricking innocent people here, to the middle of nowhere, just to turn them away for fun? What kind of sick people are you?” The young man demanded to know, causing Sallalea’s eyebrow to twitch.
“Don’t make me sound like some sort of S&M queen! What sort of Stop & Go play do you think I’m into!?” Sallalea asked, her eyes narrowing with severity. “The only reason that ad is there is because my friend is an airhead who doesn’t think things throught!”
During their argument, the two failed to notice how the massive, dark, wooden door leading to the basement slowly opened, and a lithe figure snuck outside. That was why the third voice joining the conversation gave them both the scare of their life. Despite the dawning sun’s first rays that stealthily entered the lobby, it was still relatively dark outside. Therefore, the slender blonde shadow that crept up upon them was like a hazy image out of a nightmare.
“—No. The reason is money.”
While the two stubborn debaters screamed out in surprise, the mistress of the house dusted her white dress and gave them both an indifferent look. With her long, silky flaxen hair and white gown lined with ermine fur, she seemed to give of some sense of reservation. However, Sallalea knew very well that this style of fashion stemmed solely from the girl’s incredibly lazy nature. Her half-closed, ice-blue eyes and sluggish movement were a testimony of this personality. Whenever Sallalea saw her, she was surprised the girl didn’t simply fall over and start snoring. Either she was always suffering from a serious sleep-deprivation, or then it had something to do with the fumes that filled the basement.
“Money?” Sallalea asked, scratching her head. “Vasilisa, what are you talking about? It’s not as if we need a new tenant just because we’re low on money, right?”
“Well… there is another way,” Vasilisa admitted, gazing slightly off of Sallalea. The way the girl never wanted to look anyone’s face was just one of the many oddities surrounding the girl known as Vasilisa.
“See? Let’s just go with that,” Sallalea said before grinning triumphantly at the young man’s direction. “You heard the lady. No need for you here.”
“In that case… Salla?” Vasilisa suddenly stepped right in front of the other girl, bringing her hand up with the palm open. “Fork it over.”
“Erm… what?”
“Fork it over,” Vasilisa repeated. “The rent. You haven’t paid rent for over a year now. Neither has Alyssa.”
It was at that point that the economic situation of the Lintukoto Mansion came crashing down to the head of Sallalea Edelfelt, along with a startling revelation as to what had transpired. Due to her expensive tastes and poor budget planning, Sallalea had been low on money since the start of the previous year. And since Vasilisa never demanded for the rent, Sallalea had simply assumed that her input in the matter was no longer needed. But that was far from the case.
The Russian girl had simply bided her time, waiting for their monetary situation to come to the point where she could simply force her will, no matter what Sallalea said.
“G-gah! Such a demon! A demon!” Sallalea accused Vasilisa and pointed at her. “You planned this all along, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
Vasilisa’s response was so honest that it became a One-Hit KO attack that took any steam off of Sallalea. Defeated, the small girl slumped against the wall, wrapping her arms around her. Her eyes stared into the deep distance, seeing back to the moment when the blonde girl had executed her merciless plan.
It was during this January, the first January of year 1990, that Sallalea Edelfelt’s rights in the Lintukoto Manor were completely eradicated.
“Well, there you have it,” Vasilisa said and turned towards the young man, who had been following the exchange with growing concern. “You’re welcome to move in here. First month’s pay, up-front. Here.”
Vasilisa, in her typical unconcerned manner, presented her open palm at the boy. The pale skin of the girl was nearly matching when compared to the white walls of the lobby, creating a surreal image of the girl being just another part of the mansion. Perhaps a furniture, or perhaps a piece of decoration somewhere high up on the wall. And even Sallalea had to admit that sometimes it felt like this mansion had been just another limb of the girl.
“Really? Well… alright, “the young man said, still seeming rather doubtful. However, he finally took a paper bag from inside his jacket, and handed it over to Vasilisa.
As the two girls peered inside, they saw what seemed like incredible amount of pocket change and few bills.
“That’s exactly 2300 markkaa. I counted them for the whole night, so I’m sure,” the boy informed them.
“—Mm. So it seems. Welcome. To Lintukoto Mansion.”
As Vasilisa was about to offer her other hand for a handshake, Sallalea quickly cut in, letting out a sound that was somewhere between a roar and a scream. She spread her hands, acting as a defensive barrier between the two who had so quickly come to an agreement.
“W-wait, don’t you think this is a bit strange, Vasilisa?” Sallalea asked from her friend. “That’s a huge amount of pocket change. Just who pays their rent in pocket change? Where did you even get all these coins!?”
The last question was asked from the young man, who scratched his unshaven chin while looking a bit awkward. Finally, after clearing his throat couple of times, he answered, looking away from the girls while he did so.
“… I collected bottles.”
Those words caused a short silence to fall into the lobby. There, in the middle of the lavishly patterned walls, grand furniture carved from mahogany, standing on a high-class Persian carpet, was a young man who had admitted that he had come up with enough money for month’s rent in the place by going through other peoples trash. The crack that had appeared in the high-class, chateau-like atmosphere was simply too big to be ignored, and for that reason the two girls simply gave their completely emotionless gazes.
“… Sure. Well. Welcome to Lintukoto Mansion,” Vasilisa finally broke the silence, grabbing the man’s hand and shaking it.
“Erm, thanks,” the young man answered. “I don’t have any luggage with me or anything, so don’t worry about me asking for a help in the moving. Do you have a smoking room here?”
Vasilisa tilted her head, her eyes staring off into the distance like a pair of paraffin lamps. Both the young man and Sallalea could nearly see how the clockworks of Vasilisa’s brains kept turning, trying to come up with the requested information. Though she might have been the mistress of the house, even Vasilisa wasn’t the one who had designed it. Therefore, even she had trouble remembering all the rooms.
“Yes. There is,” Vasilisa finally answered. “Take the east-wing’s corridor here on the first floor. Last door on the left. That parlor was converted into a smoking room. Possibly. At least there are velvet curtains. Probably.”
“Ah, thanks. Well, I’ll be off, then,” the young man said and took off, lazily waving his hand at the girls. “I’ll be back soon enough, to sign the contract and all that.”
As the tall boy passed her, Sallalea frowned again and with a swift move of her hand, swatted him on the shoulder. The blonde let out a yelp of pain, before giving the girl a glare full of grudge. Sallalea returned the expression, before opening her mouth.
“Your name. What is it?” She asked. “You never introduced yourself, you know.”
For a moment, the young man looked honestly surprised.
“Oh, me?” he asked, before tapping his chest with his thumb. “I’m Sisu Myrsky. Just call me Sisu, though. I don’t particularly care for my last name.”
“Sisu, huh?” Sallalea repeated the name, sounding unimpressed. Her eyes continued that fashion, having the same sort of interest in them as what was usually reserved for a roadkill. “My name is Sallalea Edelfelt. As you can understand from my name, I am the heiress of the Edelfelt family. So do watch your manners.”
“What manners? I haven’t seen you show them at all,” Sisu retorted, causing Sallalea’s eyebrow to twitch.
“And this is Vasilisa,” she continued, trying to restrain from bickering with the boy again. “She’s the current mistress of this house. So stay on her good side.”
For a moment it seemed that Sallalea was about to end it there, but then, like an after-thought, she added:
“There’s also one other tenant, but she keeps to herself. I doubt you’ll be seeing her much. Just remember that, though, if you run into her.”
“… I’ll keep that in mind.” With doubtful eyes
The heavy footfalls of Sisu retreated towards the corridor, and soon his large figure disappeared from sight as he turned around the corner. That left both Sallalea and Vasilisa alone in the lobby. The former turned towards her friend, folding her arms and straightening her back. These mannerisms were not unlike those of small birds, who, when threatened, tried to make themselves look bigger. Thus, the orange, angry eyes met the blue, lazy ones, as Sallalea confronted Vasilisa.
“What are you thinking!?” Sallalea demanded to know. “You know that we can’t have a normal person running around here! Just yesterday your experiment filled backyard with crystallized critters. What if something like that happens again, and he notices! A fine mess that’ll be.”
“Don’t worry.” Vasilisa gave her friends an indifferent thumbs up. “I’ll be discreet.”
Unfortunately, this did anything but reassure her friend. It was merely the dawn of the day, and already to Sallalea’s ears the rhythmic ticking of the clock sounded like bells of doom announcing the moment when her family would disown her. What had been a wonderful Saturday with nothing to do but to laze around had quickly become a spiraling head-spin into a catastrophe waiting to happen.
“I’m not turning your head around on this one, am I…?” Sallalea finally asked, sighing a heavy, defeated sigh. Vasilisa nodded, wrapping her ermine muff so that her hands were now completely hidden.
“No. You aren’t.” That was her short and to-the-point answer. Sallalea had long since learned that there was no arguing with this girl.
The two of them could not have been more different, standing there in the lobby. One dressed in white, cold and pure as the snow. Inhuman aura of gloom hung around her, and her half-closed eyes never met the face of anyone she saw. And the other one was in clothes as blue as the skies, her spirit flying fast and free, refusing to stop for a single moment.
Perhaps it was for this reason that these two got along so well. Polar opposites who supported each other. Just like in the flag of the country they lived in. As long as they were in for a penny when it came to their odd relationship, they had decided they might as well be in for a pound.
“You don’t trust him.” That was not a question. Vasilisa rarely asked questions.
“Of course not, that hobo is a normal human. He has no business in this house. Who knows what’ll happen if he stumbles onto some of experiment of ours, or worse yet, into the coffin of that freeloader?” Sallalea grumbled. “Speaking of which, whatever happened to that thing you were building in the backyard? I didn’t see it anymore when I came back from school yesterday.”
For a moment, a cloud travelled across Vasilisa’s eyes. As much as the girl avoided asking questions, there was only one thing that she avoided more: admitting her own mistakes. Therefore, the moment Sallalea saw her silent fidgeting, she could pretty much guess what had transpired.
“Wait, wait. Let me guess: you increased the intake of mana by lengthening the artificial circuits? And that made the whole thing blow up like a New Year’s fireworks, though thankfully towards the forest, and without a chance of fire. Is that about right?”
Vasilisa’s deepening silence was enough to tell Sallalea that she had hit the jackpot. The more the blonde girl looked like the discussion was about someone else’s problem, the more it usually had to do with her. Such as the case just now. Sallalea heaved a sigh, and tapped Vasilisa’s shoulder.
“Well, that much is understandable. The core was too weak, so any tampering with the insides would make it explode,” Sallalea said. “I sometimes wonder just how you Russians have gotten so far with your magecraft. It’s almost as if you don’t pay attention to details, you just make the overall schemes smaller and call them details.”
“Matryoshka Principle,” Vasilisa answered quietly. “That’s what it is. Smaller world inside smaller, generation after generation. It is to take the source and hide it. You should do that, Salla. With your anger.”
Sallalea grunted in her mind, annoyed by the sharp insight of her friend. The verbal riposte had been unsuspected and had thus scored a critical hit. It was clear that Vasilisa knew that she had yet to accept the new tenant in the slightest.
“Ugh, like I could. That guy is definitely trouble. Just from the way he speaks I can tell he’s from Lapland. You could say that by merely existing in the same building as us, he will bring up our chances of failure,” Sallalea complained, glaring at the direction where Sisu had previously disappeared off to. “Not to mention his whole appearance is suspicious. Just where do you find people like that anymore, nowadays?”
“But isn’t that alright?” Vasilisa inquired. “Normal. That’s what we lack.”
Sallalea flinched, understanding what her friend meant with those completely ordinary words. Currently their mansion was nothing but a home to all the unnatural things in the municipality they lived in, gathering unwanted attention by merely being hidden. To have someone normal in a place like that would surely even the aura of the land, but still… the mere thought of living in the same place as Sisu Myrsky caused her to feel a tinge of unpleasant taste on her tongue.
“As long as he behaves like it is to be expected. This is a mansion after all. If he starts exhibiting manners akin to what I see my classmates having, I’ll be first in the line of booting him out of this place,” Sallalea concluded and turned her head away in a huff.
Vasilisa, understanding that her friend had said all she wanted about the subject, gazed at the snow outside, and how the perfect whiteness seemed to spread all across the land. From there, her thoughts moved on to how cold it must have been out there, and thus arrived to the logical question that had been knocking at the back of her head for a while now.
“Well, alright. But…” Vasilisa gave a sideways glance at Sallalea. “Those pajamas. How long will you wear them?”
With a great blush on her face, Sallalea quickly retread back to the second floor, in order to find more acceptable clothing.
Ω—Ω
Meanwhile, at the smoking room in the far end of the east-wing, Sisu Myrsky pressed himself deeply into one of the lavish sofas that acted like vanguard of those who stepped into the parlor. Just like Vasilisa had said, the place had been fitted with velvet curtains which would absorb most of the smoke, though judging by the large window fitting for a parlor, at summers it would be a whole other deal.
The smoke of a cigarette quietly floated into the air as Sisu took a drag and let the ephemeral wisps seep into the air through his lips. A quiet smile spread on this face, as he was finally able to relax. While there was no electrical light in the parlor, the fireplace gave enough light so that he could see even in the dim dawn of a winter day. Not only that, but the warmth of the parlor was far better than the unfriendly coldness, not enough to actually feel freezing, of the lobby.
Having spent most of the last few days travelling, Sisu felt relieved that he could finally sit down, relax, and smoke in peace. His last attempt had been thwarted by the ridiculously big German Shepherd outside. While the dog must have been calm on normal days, merely seeing his form had sent it to a quite the fit.
Luckily for Sisu, he knew how to handle dogs. Unfortunately, his cigarette had been destroyed in the small scuffle that had ensued.
“But I really got lucky, didn’t I?” Sisu muttered to himself. “To find a place like this with low rent and good living conditions… I really hit the jackpot.”
The only problem Sisu had at the moment was the girl called Sallalea Edelfelt. While he had felt that the girl named Vasilisa would not mind a casual approach, the short firecracker with sky-blue hair was a whole other deal. He still had no idea how to speak to him, as anything he did seemed to simply set off another argument. Now that he thought about it, it had been a long time since he had argued with someone like that.
After all, usually Sisu preferred to be left alone.
That was why he had chosen this mansion. Far away from the city without it being an inconvenience, with big enough place so that he would not have to talk to the other tenants if it was not the absolute necessity, he could be as much of a hermit here as he wanted to. Nobody would bother him needlessly.
That only left the problem of a school. While Sisu had applied to the only gymnasium of Tapiola, he was somewhat worried about the people in there. While his appearance and mannerisms were usually enough to drive away all the curious people, here, far in the south from where he came, people behaved differently. Living through the days in his own peace and quiet seemed like a monumental task.
“… Maybe I’m worrying over nothing,” Sisu muttered, taking another drag off his cigarette.
Sisu sighed and leaned further back, staring at the wooden ceiling adorned with a pattern depicting numerous trees and other local flora. While he knew he could cope with the style of life here, seeing all these lavish decorations still made him feel alienated. He himself would have preferred a more simplistic approach in interior design, but since he had gotten a room here for cheap, he decided to keep that bit of selfishness to himself.
He simply hoped that his own room would not be some sort of frill-filled hell of fluffiness and bright colors. Judging from the pajamas Sallalea had worn, that seemed to be the norm in this house. Maybe he could request one of the rooms that the servants had used. A house like this must have had servants at some point, right…?
“But that makes me think…” Sisu scratched his chin, while bringing his cigarette back to his lips. “Just how come there are only three people living in a mansion as big as this?”
Feeling like he was about to intrude into topics that had nothing to do with him, Sisu quickly abandoned that train of thought. Instead, he allowed himself to enjoy the taste of the cigarette and the soft fall of the snow outside.
After all, during this time of the year, there was nothing but snow.
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“An introvert protagonist? This is like playing a Visual Novel. On European Extreme.”
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Originally Posted by Revenant
